Wildfire Wilma and The Lord of the Rings
by SpiritChild
Summary: Now her head really hurt. Gondor? Rivendell? None of that made sense..wait a minute..Did you just call me a lady..? Growling she tried to sit up again. I am no lady! I'm Wildfire Wilma. The greatest female outlaw to terrorize Dodge City! Language Warning!


Chapter One

Hail of Bullets

Wildfire Wilma crouched behind the upended wagon. The sounds of bullets hitting wood and iron ringing in her ears. "Dammit!" The sizzling metal of her Smith and Wesson's burnt her fingers as she reloaded. Most of her band had been killed or captured, as a matter of fact the only one she could still tell was fighting was Dirty Joe. The thunder of his Colt 45's came from off to her left. "Joe!"

"Ayuh, Wilma!"

"Let's end this!"

"Damn straight! They'll never take us alive!"

"Ready?" She flicked her wrists, locking the two barrels in place. The twin six-guns had been her father's. Even with the metal sizzling hot, the onyx grips felt cool in her hands. She took a deep breath. "Hey you dirty bastards! Taste my lead!" She stood and spun around the wagon firing. Joe had followed suit from where he had sought cover, the silver Colts glinting in the afternoon sun.

She felt bullets whizzing past her. Marshalls! Ha! Theses fools couldn't hit the broad side of a barn! Her horse Tempest was still tethered nearby. The chestnut stallion eyed her with interest. Joe let out a cry and he slumped forward. She growled, that did it! "Fuckers!" Turning, she bolted to Tempest and jumped onto his back. "Hah!" The horse took off, but not before her back exploded with pain. "Shit." She whispered before slumping forward in the saddle of the still moving horse.

* * *

It felt as though she was floating in blissful darkness for what seemed like an eternity before she woke up abruptly on cold hard earth. "Uhnn." Her head was pounding and she felt extremely dizzy. Tempest nuzzled her face, seemingly grateful she was awake. "Where in the hell are we?" She struggled to sit up and pain ripped through her back. "Gah! Damn those Marshalls!"

Her movements had alerted the man who had come across her. He immediately went over to her and pushed her back down flat. "Try not to move. You're wounded quite severly."

Wilma glared up at the man, her hazel eyes not very amused. "Who the hell are you and where am I for fuck's sake?"

He started and then frowned in confusion. What kind of female spoke like that? "I am Boromir of Gondor, and you are two days outside Rivendell, my lady."

Now her head really hurt. "Gondor? Rivendell?" None of that made sense..wait a minute.."Did you just call me a lady..?" Growling she tried to sit up again. "I am no lady! I'm Wildfire Wilma. The greatest female outlaw to terrorize Dodge City!"

Now it was Boromir's turn to be confused. "Dodge City?" He shook his head. So she was an outlaw? "Oh well, all will be figured out in time. Are you hungry?"

"Help me up. I need to go before the Marshalls catch up with me."

Boromir sighed, this was obviously going nowhere. "No one will take you anywhere. Now I ask again. Are you hungry?"

Wilma groaned. This one was stubborn. "Fine. Will you at least allow me into a sitting position?" Boromir nodded and helped her sit up. She hissed at the pain in her back. Finally, she took stock of her situation. Her brown leather duster and bedroll were still attached to Tempest's saddle. Her saddle bags seemed intact. Inside would be a change of clothes, more ammo, jerky, and moccasin boots River Son had made her. The Blackfoot warrior had been the first to fall to the Marshalls.

Her rancher's hat, also a remnant of her father, lay just off to the side along with her six-guns. She grimaced as she reached out and grabbed them. The guns needed cleaned or the chance of misfire would be great. "Hey, uh, Boromir?" He looked up from the pot of stew he was simmering over the fire. "Would you get my gun kit out of the left saddle bag for me? Seeing as how I am not allowed up." Boromir nodded. "Brown leather pouch."

He shuffled through the bags and finally pulled it out. "Here. What are those things?" He motioned to the six-guns.

Wilma stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head. "Haven't you ever seen a damn gun before?" At the shake of his head. She stuttered. "Where in the fuck did I end up?" With a sigh she proceeded to disassemble them and clean them with well-trained hands.

Boromir watched in fascination. She was a strange one. Perhaps Mithrandir or Lord Elrond would be able to shed some light on her. He shrugged and returned to the stew, preparing a bowl, he set it next to her. She managed a nod of thanks, barely looking up from her work.

Finally satisfied, she flicked the barrels into place, and set about eating the stew. It had cooled enough to eat without pause. "Not bad. This is better than range fare."

Boromir gave a nod. "I am on my way to Rivendell for an important meeting. You should come with me. They have the very best healers there."

She sighed and set her empty bowl aside. "Not gonna take no for an answer are ya?"

"No."

"Fine, I will go with you to this Rivendell place. Now how about another bowl fo that stew? It really hit the spot." Boromir grinned and filled her bowl again.

* * *

Later that night, Wilma lay on her bedroll looking up at the starry sky. There wasn't a single familiar constellation in the sky. Out on the Kansas Territory, she knew every star in the sky. Not these stars, though. This was definately going to take some getting used to...

* * *

_A/N : Chapter one's pretty short, I know. Just kinda testin' the water on it. Let me know if you like the idea. SpiritChild_


End file.
